Sometimes I really want to blog about something that happened, but then I worry about the person or persons who would likely become the subject of the post, and how they would feel if they read it. Sunday was one of those days for me. While I would never want to hurt anyone’s feelings on purpose, if it’s the truth, then it’s the truth. As long as I do so honestly, then I feel like I have the right to write about it…albeit unfair that some of the story is likely going to be my “impressions” as well as the facts. But, at the end of the day, you did say and/or do whatever you said and/or did, and so you had the choice prior to doing and/or saying what you did and/or said whether or not you were going to do and/or say what you did and/or said. Right?
I would admit that it would suck to find out that you had done and/or said something that you wouldn’t want other people to know about, or something you wouldn’t necessarily want to defend, to a person who writes about every nook and cranny of her life.
Perhaps I should have t-shirts or hats made to wear around, that say something to the effect of:
“WARNING: BY INTERACTING AND/OR ENGAGING IN CONVERSATION WITH THE WEARER OF THIS SHIRT OR HER FAMILY, YOU ARE SUBJECTING YOURSELF TO THE WRITTEN NARRATIONS OF SAID WEARER AS WELL AS THE IMPRESSIONS AND/OR OPINIONS OF THOSE WHO READ HER BLOG. YOU ARE NOW ON NOTICE. CONDUCT YOURSELF ACCORDINGLY.”
So, all that having been said, I was a little rattled at church Sunday, when confronted by a fill-in Sunday School teacher (and I say confronted because I mean confronted here, make no mistake about it) after Little B wreaked havoc on their class for an hour. I was told that he was scribbling on the table, hitting other children, and generally not behaving. He eventually just became too “violent” for them to keep him in the room, and so they moved him to another class with a teacher by himself. She was shaking her head and using hand motions in a manner that I found a bit unsettling. She was clearly upset. I apologized for his behavior. I tried to explain that Little B has been doing much better than before for some time, and I was surprised by his behavior. This lady, however, had never interacted with my child before, so she wasn’t impressed with whatever improvement had heretofore been made. That’s not to say that I consider what she reported to me to be an “improvement”… ! Rather, I was disappointed that he had turned around and ran in the opposite direction that day, in terms of progress. Even more, I got defensive as a result of her tone, her manner, and the words she used. Violent. Really? Yes, technically. But…really? I thought that was a poor choice, especially given the fact that she had already said “hit” several times in a short span of time, and I already know what the word “hit” means. It just felt funny, is all I can tell you. She was angry. And I felt like she was angry with ME. As in, “How DARE you bring your violent, disturbed kid to church for him to commit battery upon battery on all the other good, angelic kids here?!” Okay. That was probably a little overboard. But I’m an emotional person, and that’s the feeling I left the conversation with. I didn’t even make it through 15 minutes of the church service, it upset me so much. Because here’s the thing with me…once I get upset, I can’t just get UN-upset. And my attempts to “wind down” the emotions like anger and frustration eventually leads to tears. Followed closely by, you guessed it, more tears because I’m embarrassed by my reaction.
I have so many stories spanning from the time I can remember until, uh, Sunday, of just that happening. I cannot turn it off. It’s just how it is.
So, in summation, I can’t defend his actions any more than I can condemn hers. Who wouldn’t be frustrated in that situation? I sure am. As is blatantly obvious if you’ve read even ONE of my previous blog posts.
I was going to let this one go. I was going to blow it off and move on. But then, I saw this woman just yesterday at the grocery store…and as she approached me, and we made eye contact, I smiled in recognition, and even tilted my head slightly to the side, like, “OH, HEY!”…
She just walked right past me.
Oh well. I guess I expect too much out of people sometimes. Of course, maybe she just couldn’t place where she knew me from and just decided to ignore me altogether.
I’m going to pray for her. That she continue to do God’s work but maybe with a little more patience and acceptance of His children. Because that’s where I’m at with this one.
Feel free to comment…I’m open to other interpretations of how I should handle this one.